


Unsung

by AbAbsurdo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Relationship, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbAbsurdo/pseuds/AbAbsurdo
Summary: While Tom gets to know and fall for Henry Talbot, two people meet and plan their revenge. Tom gets help from an unexpected source, and Henry finds himself taken with Thomas Barrow
Relationships: Thomas Barrow & Henry Talbot, Thomas Barrow & Tom Branson, Thomas Barrow & Tom Branson & Henry Talbot, Tom Branson/Henry Talbot
Kudos: 13





	Unsung

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the Whumptober 2020 prompts. At the end of each chapter I will be adding the prompt.
> 
> There is no Mary/Henry in this story.  
> Tags and relationships may change.  
> Rate is only due to the subject.

September 1925

  
The drawing room had an eerie quietness that evening Tom entertained Henry in the absence of the family. Thomas was serving tea in the background when a knock on the door interrupted Henry's tale of his shenanigans with Charlie Rogers. Tom knew how his death still hurt Henry. The door opened immediately. Thomas stood straight with the teapot in his hand. Andy came running in, Carson was right behind him, the Nanny a step to his back. 

“Mr. Branson, something has happened. The Nanny took the young Master and Ladies for their walk today…” Tom stood instinctively, a knot in his stomach. Something was wrong. His mind couldn’t provide any ideas at to what. It was blank against the words coming his way. Henry’s hand on his shoulder steadied him. 

Carson took a step back to the side and gestured to the Nanny Temple, a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties, closer to Tom’s own age than any of the previous Nannies were. 

“They were playing all together and Miss Marigold fell and hurt her leg. I had to look after her and tend to her injury.” Imploring green eyes stared at him, wetness gathering around the rim. “When I turned around, Miss Sybbie was gone.” He vaguely heard the teapot falling thumbing down on the carpet. The woman looked at his left where Thomas stood but she continued. “I called her name and looked around, but no one was there. Master George didn’t see anything. I only found a note.”

  
The note was simple.

  
_We’ll be in touch._  
_Don’t call the police._

Someone had taken his child.

  
Henry read the note from over his shoulder and his touch on his shoulder became firmer. He gently pushed him down by the shoulders to sit on the sofa. He took the note from the Woman’s hand.

“How did this happen?” It was Thomas who asked. 

“I believe it was just explained, Mr. Barrow,” Carson’s voice was grating Tom’s nerves. 

“Yes, but… do we call the police?” 

“The note said not to,” Tom said. 

“Yes, but what do we do? Do we just wait for them to contact us? What if…” Tom turned and looked up at Thomas, whose hands were shaking. 

_What if they hurt Sybbie?_ went unsaid. 

What if his child was hurt? What to do?

“Can you leave us alone for a while?” Henry said to Carson and the rest of the servants, who one by one left the room.

  
“Call us as soon as you need us. Mr. Barrow? Are you coming?” Thomas seemed pinned to his place, shocked and pale. Was he always so pale? Andy came back and wrapped his arm around Barrow’s elbow gently, Tom noticed, pulling his away with him.

  
What strange details we notice in times of anguish?

  
Soon they were alone, he and Henry. He felt arms around his shoulder pulling him close to the other man’s body. He couldn’t think, all his thoughts centred on Sybbie.   
He hadn’t been able to protect his baby girl.

  
What would Sybil say? 

  
“We’ll find her, Tom. Come on, deep breaths. We’ll find her.” 

  
Tom realised he had grasped Henry’s shirt and was crying on his shoulder. “Were do we start?”

“We have to inform the police.” Henry’s hands moved up and down on Tom’s back keeping him in reality when his scrambled thoughts tried to suck him to an abyss of loss and ache. 

“But, what if they hurt her?”

Henry stared down at the man in his embrace. He didn’t know what to say or do to offer comfort. Calling the police was the only solution he could think of. Pass the problem to the professionals to find, rescue and bring Tom’s child home. To her father. 

The people who took her could hurt the child even if they didn’t call the police. One thought after the other presented the worst outcome inside his head, an outcome he couldn’t share with the distraught father in his arms. 

He needed someone to help him make his point clear. They couldn’t do much on their own. 

He led Tom to the armchair and made him sit down. “I’ll call for a servant.” 

Henry opened the door to find Thomas Barrow waiting outside. 

* * *

  
Disoriented and alone, among people she didn’t know. One moment she was playing hide and seek with her cousins, the next she had a handkerchief on her nose and was carried away from her house and everything and everyone she loved. An arm was wrapped around her tiny waist and another around her throat making her breathing difficult. 

Everything was dark and she couldn’t call out for help. 

What was happening?

Daddy?   
Where was everyone?

Nanny Temple?

Mister Barrow?

Someone would have to be there with her.

* * *

_A few days earlier_

  
The young woman stood in front of the Cathedral, the clock stroked the hour. Immediately, and according the plan, she left the Church and walked purposely to the Mallard Grange, the place of her rendezvous. She was a slim, short woman in her late twenties, with blue eyes and blond hair. She walked inside and rounded at the table she saw her acquaintance sitting, an empty plate on the table on her side. 

  
“Finally. I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

“I left as soon as I could. Not all of us are idle.”

She looked at the newly arrived from beneath her glasses. “I’m not sure I appreciate the way you spend your time and I’ll take idleness over it.” The Welsh accent was clear in the woman’s voice in ways she hadn’t heard when they had first met years before. 

“But you are here. Aren’t you afraid for your reputation to be seen with me?”

“I have no reputation left for anyone of importance to hire me. Meeting with women of your ilk won’t harm me any more than that bog-trotter.”

Edna shrugged. West's personal problems weren't her business. They only needed her for her expertise until all of this ended. “There is an idea. I wondered if you wanted to take part in it."

West raised an eyebrow. Edna noticed she looked much older than the last time she had seen him. The years had taken a toll on her. "What's the idea?"

"It's Jules’ plan." 

"And who's 'Jules'?

"My husband."

"Of course he is." 

Edna stood. "This was a mistake. You are not the person I need."

West reached over, grabbing her arm. "Sit down. I'll listen. To your _husband_ 's idea."

"There is a plan. I trust you with this because I know they have harmed you too. The Crawleys."

"If it brings misery to the Crawley's you can be certain I'll help with your plan." West took her glass and gulped down the cheap wine before pouring more.

" Plan is easy. We take one of Crawley kids and ask for money. We won’t have to work again for the rest our life.”

“What if they get us?”

“They won’t. Jules has people.”

“What kind of people? And what does he say about your profession?”

“None of your business.”

“So I see. That kind of a husband, Mrs….?

“King.”

“How the mighty have fallen. If your plan had worked you’d be in the big house yourself. Why do you need me for?”

“You hate them and we want someone to look at the brat when I’m not in the room.”

“We’ll get the half-breed.” She repeated the slur with passion.

Edna’s eyebrow raised at the woman’s vehemence. “Half breed?” she asked, amusement colouring her voice.

“The chauffeur’s child. How was a lady brought herself so low as to marry the Paddy.”

  
“How indeed? Little Sybbie would do. Of course she’d do. Don’t you think they’d pay more for the young master, their little master?” Edna asked even as the idea of revenge against Tom Branson took place next to Jule’s plan of kidnapping a Crawley kid for money. The Crawleys would pay money for Lady Sybil’s child and Branson would suffer the loss of his daughter.

She smiled. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll do.” 

* * *

Prompt used: No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY   
~~"Pick Who Dies" | Collars |~~ **Kidnapped**


End file.
